


Sweetheart

by LilacChild



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Consensual Underage Sex, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Langst, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Parent Death, Past Relationship(s), Romance, Smoking, So beware, fluff?, klance, pining lance, probs eventual smut, references to 2000s music
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2018-11-12 14:49:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11164137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacChild/pseuds/LilacChild
Summary: (Previously Titled Mixtape 2010) Lance and Keith haven't seen each other since their high school romance came to an end nearly a decade ago. Now as they come together again for a cross-country road trip to make it to Shiro and Allura's wedding they have the chance to rediscover each other, themselves, and cheesy love songs from their high school days.[This will not be continued as the Voltron fandom has been ruined for me and I no longer enjoy writing for it.]





	1. Summer Hair = Forever Young

**Author's Note:**

> The first story I started actually knowing how it will end whaaaaat? Anyways, this story will have a good 12 to 15 chapters I should think.

 

**June 2017**

 

There was sweat on Lance's palms, the hot sun only giving him the thinnest veil of an excuse for the prickling of moisture beneath his arms or the constant rub of his hands down the front of his jeans in an effort to keep them dry. The pavement radiated heat up from beneath him and he considered for a moment, crossing over to walk on the crunch of burnt grass instead. It would be a way to stall, at the very least. He licked at his lips, feeling their dry crack caused by his nervous habit and glanced at the torn corner of a piece of notebook paper pinched between the fingers of his left hand. Apartment 126.

Strange how something that could take up so much of his thoughts and eat away at him for the past month could be shrunken down and summed up with nothing but the three numbers written in his small lettering with a leaky ballpoint pen that had left smudges of ink across the bottom of the paper. He folded the scrap again, letting the sweat from his hands soak into the page, further sullying it before pressing it into his pocket again. 126. He scanned the doors in front of him, the first row of apartments in his search listed as 100-105, and therefore not where he needed to be.  

He could feel his stomach clenching nervously as he pressed further in, passing more doors. One of these would bring him face to face with Keith Kogane again for the first time in seven years. Seven years since their high school graduation, and seven years since the week after, when the boy had so thoroughly crushed Lance's heart. He wasn't sure if he should be thanking his friend Shiro or cursing him for giving him the chance to see him again.

Slowly Lance's scuffed knock-off converse scraped themselves to a halt in front of a faded red door, the golden numbers nailed to the front reading 126 and Lance gulped. This was it. Deep breaths. He took a moment to wonder if Keith would even recognize him since he certainly didn't look eighteen anymore. He'd grown another three inches, his face had hollowed slightly in his early twenties poverty and his hair had gotten lighter while his skin had grown darker, the side effect of working a job out under the harsh California sun, the only light patches left showing the outline of his watch or his shoes. He looked older, he supposed, it was understandable. But he couldn't help wondering if Keith would be able to understand. He licked his lips again, ignoring the dull sting of cracked skin before rapping his knuckles against the door.  

A good thirty seconds passed, and Lance was beginning to think he'd written the wrong number down, but just before he was about to turn away he heard the scrape of metal on metal as the latch was pulled back. He sucked in a breath and put on a smile for the man in the doorway.

"Keith?"

Keith, or who he assumed was Keith, looked up at him through thick black hair growing down in front of his eyes and suddenly Lance was aware of the smell of tobacco and leather and memories wafting into the space between them, hot and stagnant in the summer sun.

"Yeah. Lance?" His voice was rougher than Lance remembered, lower and quieter, like he didn't actually want to be heard. He supposed a lot of things would be different.

"That's me," Lance's smile moved from forced to good-natured, his shoulders relaxing beneath his thin t-shirt. "Ready to go?" He could see a suitcase sitting just inside the door, prepared for Keith to grab and go, presumably whenever Lance showed up.

"As I'll ever be."

Lance stepped aside for the other, letting him lock up after pulling on his jacket and grabbing the worn handle of the case.

"You know we could be there in a few hours if we just took a plane, right?" With the door firmly locked behind him, Keith turned to follow Lance out to the parking lot. The older man just shook his head.

"The only way you're getting to New York is with me, and _I'm_ driving." Lance was relieved. He'd been scared things would be awkward. These things tended to be.  

Keith shrugged. Of their little group, Lance was the only one who'd even ended up in the same state as him after graduation, and with no vehicle of his own and no money to drop on a plane ticket, he was more or less at Lance's mercy if he wanted to make it to New York City.

Lance led them through the maze of cars in the lot to his beat up blue pickup, unlocking the driver-side door and gesturing behind him to Keith for his bag. Keith handed it over, raising his eyebrow as he watched Lance stuff the bag behind the seat beside his own suitcase.  

"You still have this thing?" He gestured at the truck. "It's like, what, thirteen years old now?"

"Twelve," Lance corrected. "If it's not broken don’t fix it, am I right?"

"As long as it doesn't die on us halfway there."

"Don't insult old Blue, she can make it, easy peasy. Come on, hop in." Lance pulled himself up into the driver's seat and glanced over at his passenger. Seven years without so much as a phone call and now they would be spending nearly a week and a half sharing the less than roomy cabin of his pickup. It was a little surreal.

He turned the key in the ignition, turning in his seat as he backed out of his parking space. "Shiro's finally tying the knot, huh? Took him long enough." It was an effort to prevent Keith from shutting him out for the drive and get him talking. The old Keith would do that a lot, go off into his thoughts and get lost enough that he wouldn't respond to much of anyone for the rest of the day.

"Yeah, I just wish they didn't live across the entire country. It'd make my mandatory appearance a little more realistic." Keith's arms crossed in front of him over his seatbelt.

"Well, you can't really argue that NYC just sort of fits those two better than Cali. I'm pretty sure Allura would be miserable here."

Keith slid down in the seat, the same way he did when they were teenagers and he was sulking over something. "People are miserable everywhere, Lance. I don't think location has much to do with it. In fact, I think married people are even more miserable than the rest of us." Lance snorted. So maybe Keith hadn't changed all that much.  

"So you think Shiro and Allura shouldn't get married?"

"That's not what I said," Keith spoke quickly, looking out his window. "Marriage is just impractical."

"Alright." Lance had learned long ago when to just let go of things with Keith. They could argue about something for days if they felt stubborn enough. After a while, Lance pulled them onto the interstate, flipped on the cruise control, and leaned back some in his seat. "Still, you're Shiro's best man. I'm a little jealous."

Keith shrugged. "I think it's weird, I mean, I haven't even seen Shiro in years."

"We all haven't seen each other in years." Lance let his eyes wander from the road, this time deliberately seeking out the differences between seventeen-year-old Keith and twenty-four-year-old Keith. He'd filled out, his shoulders broader and his jawline squared where Lance's was pointed. He could make out the ever-present dark circles beneath his eyes, more prominent now in adulthood. Keith caught his look and pressed further against the door of the truck. Further away from him. Lance looked away.

They were silent after that, watching the road and the gradual movement of the sun across the sky above them. He was glad for the air conditioner. At one point he'd turned on the radio and softly hummed along to some of the songs he recognized. He wanted to talk with Keith more, he'd thought that seven years of a life without each other would give them so much more to talk about together. And yet he couldn't really bring himself to discuss the mundaneness of his adult life with the man who had at one point been his whole word.

What could he even say? That he'd followed Keith to California on the barest hope that they might run into each other again? That his hope had been wrung out and faded through the daily drone of work eat sleep, work eat sleep, work eat sleep? He didn't want Keith to know him like that.

When Shiro had first suggested they drive to the wedding together, Lance had been excited, and a little nervous. His hope rekindled with the fact that he would see Keith again, not on accident and not without purpose, that he'd have another shot at what they once had. But now, with Keith beside him slowly nodding off in the passenger seat, the drop of his chin nearly in time with the soft bass of the pop song playing through the car stereo, he wasn't as sure. Keith was different. _He_ was different. Their high school romance had ended with good reason.

Change likes to come when you least expect it, and change had certainly come for the two of them in the time they had lost. But maybe, Lance thought as the sign for the city limit was left in a cloud of exhaust behind them, maybe change wasn't always a bad thing.


	2. Wild Horses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than expected, but I reworked my outline a bit and had to rewrite the whole chapter so that's at least one excuse. I don't know what I'm doing.

**August 2008**

 

Keith watched from the top of Lance’s small twin bed as his friend bent over the pile of clothing on the floor of his closet that he’d been too lazy to hang up, eyeing the bits of wrinkled cloth as Lance rummaged through them. It didn’t seem as if the shoveling motion of his slim hands were doing anything to put so much as a dent in the mountain of clothing.

“What were you looking for again?” Keith leaned forward a bit, resting his chin in the palm of his hand.

“Something to wear!” Lance called back over his shoulder.

Keith rolled his eyes. “You can just go in what you have on.”

“That’s easy for _you_ to say. _I’ll_ just end up looking weird.”

Keith wrinkled his nose and fell backward onto the mattress. “You always look weird.”

“Thanks.” Keith couldn’t have missed the sarcasm in Lance’s voice if he tried.

“We’re going to be late. I knew I should have invited Pidge instead.”

“Wait, wait, I think I’ve got something.” Lance turned, shaking out the wrinkles from a black tank top with the white outline of a Mickey Mouse head on the front. “Do you think this is good enough for a rock concert?”

“Oh yeah,” Keith said, having turned his head just enough to catch sight of the shirt. “Nothing screams badass like Disney.”

“Well, it’s from Hot Topic.”

“Classy. Seriously dude, just get dressed.”

Lance sighed and began pulling his shirt over his head to replace it with the tank top. Keith quickly averted his gaze to the ceiling.

“Okay, ready.”

“Finally.”

“Oh shut up, just be grateful I’m driving you at all.” Lance grabbed his keys from off his dresser and gestured toward the door.

“Be grateful I’m paying your way in.” Keith rolled off the bed and straightened out his own dark T-shirt and the too big leather jacket he wore to cover the holes in the seams of his clothing.

They managed to leave the house and pull themselves up into the blue pickup Lance had gotten for his sixteenth birthday a few months ago. If he was being honest, Keith had been just as excited about the present as Lance himself was, and both he and Hunk had promised to take advantage of Lance’s new wheels as often as possible.

Keith thought he was keeping that promise as best he could, making Lance give him rides to and from school every day, and now even using the pickup as an excuse for why he’d invited Lance to this concert and not Pidge, even though he knew the underclassman would have his head when she found out he’d skimped her on a spot at a Rolling Stones concert in exchange for Lance.

It was because Lance could drive. That was the only reason. Certainly not because the boy in the driver seat could turn Keith’s stomach into an Olympic acrobat with the slightest of smiles and definitely not because Keith wanted to share any possible moments with _Lance_.

Pidge was going to kill him.

Beside him, Lance reached forward to flick on the radio, immediately catching the tune of what was on and jumping into the lyrics. Keith had to keep himself from laughing at the way Lance began to move his shoulders with the rhythm.

“We’re going to a _rock_ concert, you can’t jam out to Kelly Clarkson before we get there.” Of course, that just made Lance sing louder, turning briefly to catch Keith’s eye with a look that was clearly, playfully, saying _watch me_.

“ _Since you’ve been gone!”_ Lance threw his head back, purposely singing off-key to irritate Keith even more.

“Pay attention to the road!” Keith was trying to sound serious so that Lance would actually listen to him, but his laughter at seeing the boy act so unbridledly silly made it a little harder.

The chorus of the pop song came in even louder, setting the tone of the whole evening as the sun sank on their way to the show. Keith was happy. He was happy here with Lance, overplayed pop songs on the radio and the smell of hot asphalt creeping through the truck’s air vents.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

**June 2017**

 

 

Disoriented, Keith sat up in his seat. The strong vocals of Kelly Clarkson playing at low volume while Lance’s soft-singing joined it, dark fingers tapping rhythmically against the steering wheel. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Keith squinted out at the bright world beyond the windshield.

“Where are we?”

Lance’s singing stopped abruptly, and it wasn’t long before he was apologizing. Keith remembered he did that a lot. Though normally the apologies were never aimed at him. “Sorry if I woke you. We’re just outside of Vegas. Lucky you, you got to sleep through all of the traffic.”

“Yeah, lucky me.” Keith stretched his arms above his head, his fingers pressing themselves into the roof of the cabin as a sharp pain stabbed through his neck. He must have slept on it wrong. It was going to take him at least a day to work that out.

“Ready to stretch your legs? We need to stop for gas at the next station.”

“That’d be great.” Keith glanced over at the truck’s stereo, frowning as the singer’s voice continued to burst powerfully through the speakers even on low volume. “Do you mind?” He pointed at the tuning dial.

“If you can find anything else but static, be my guest.”

Keith nodded and began his quest for something other than _Since U Been Gone_. By the time he tuned past the static, ads, and country music to find a radio station more to his liking, Lance was pulling up to the gas pump.

“You wouldn’t mind grabbing me the phone charger while I’m out? It should be in the glovebox somewhere. My phone’s near death and I kind of need it for the map.”

“Yeah, sure.” Keith waved him off before the truck’s rumbling came to a stop and Lance hopped out of the driver’s seat. Keith went ahead and unlatched the compartment in front of him, the random junk Lance had somehow managed to shove into it clattering around from the force of it. At least if Lance was still this unorganized it meant that that part of him hadn’t changed either. Not that Keith was one to talk about cleanliness.

Keith pushed past the stack of paper napkins, a battered vehicle’s owner manual, a small handtowel, and a handful of old receipts before he spotted the end of a charger cable poking out of a stack of CDs in the back of the glovebox. With a sigh, he pulled at it, and as expected, a mass of CDs and napkins fell into his lap. Setting the cord aside, he started putting them back in, tossing napkins into the empty space left behind. He paused on the discs though, mildly curious as to what it was Lance was listening to these days. Keith had always put a lot of stock into what music people enjoyed as a judgment of character.

He hadn’t known what he’d expected. Most of them were older, likely ones Lance had already owned before going digital. Britney Spears, Taylor Swift, Lady Gaga, Taylor Dayne, and even the old copy of an All-American Rejects album that if he was remembering correctly, actually held a Hannah Montana disc. The only artist Keith had ever known Lance to actually feel ashamed of for listening to.

Just underneath was a slim case, the kind you could buy at the dollar store in a 20-pack if you didn’t mind the cheap plastic. This particular one held a piece of notebook paper in the front and it took a few seconds for Keith to recognize his own handwriting that claimed the CD inside as the “Totally Lame Mixtape by Keith and Lance” along with Lance’s handwriting that squeezed in the word “not” before “Lame.”

He sucked in a breath at the unexpected ache in his chest. He remembered this. He’d tossed out his own copy of the songs they’d compiled only a few months after the breakup. An action he’d regretted once he was no longer drunk but still just as sad. He still felt like an insensitive asshole because of it.

The silence was broken when Lance opened up the driver side door again, letting the sound of the cars rushing past on the highway and the distant noise of other human beings invade Keith’s senses once more and break him away from his fixation on the case in his hands. Caught off guard and not wanting to seem like he was going through Lance’s things, he tried to stuff the case back in the glovebox, though the momentum of him lurching forward sent the rest of the albums in his lap tumbling to the floor and there was an audible crack as the flimsy casing of the mixtape collided with the dashboard instead of the compartment and the plastic earned a spiderweb crack across the front.

“Shit.” Of course. Why did these things always have to happen to him? “I’ll get you a new case for it somewhere.” His face was on fire from being caught not only going through Lance’s things but also from finding something that so directly related to their past together.

Lance had paused with the door handle still in his hand when he had seen what it was Keith had just ruined. “Oh… no, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it Keith, it’s not that big of a deal. It’s not like I ever listen to it anymore.”

The thick silence between them was all Keith needed to know that he’d seriously fucked up by messing with the disc. He knew that Lance was still hung up on their relationship from all those years ago. After all, he himself had been, for the longest time. There was no way that Lance didn’t care about it.

The ignition rumbled to life once more and Lance began to pull out of the gas station while Keith gathered up cases from the floor to put them back. He hesitated with their CD though, flipping it over to look through the handwritten list of songs on the back.

“...We could listen to it you know.” Lance’s voice held the slightest shake, giving away the nerves he was hiding past that smile.

Keith felt his eyebrows pulling together at that. He thought it was sweet that Lance had kept it. Everything Lance had ever done was sweet, it was just who he was. But Keith had moved on years ago, had realized that the way their lives were going that there was no way for them to be together. Why couldn’t Lance understand that, even now?

“They’re just songs, Keith. And besides, everything on the radio is all commercials and fuzz, just put it in.”

“They’re not just songs.” Keith had snapped. He was always quick to argue with Lance about these things. Maybe he’d gotten over the fact that he and Lance weren’t really meant for each other in the way that they’d once thought, but it didn’t change the fact that hearing Lance write off something that had once meant so much to them as ‘just songs’ had stung.

They weren’t just songs. This was so much more than a bundle of music they’d cobbled together. It was the representation of two whole years of their lives. The soundtrack to being sixteen years old and believing that it was them against the world. They were stolen moments, and summer nights, and innocence, words that brought back memories that Keith considered precious. But maybe Lance didn’t think of them the same way.

“Sorry.” And now Lance was frowning and the apology was just making Keith uncomfortable. Lance wasn’t supposed to apologize. He was supposed to argue, and get upset that Keith had gotten bent out of shape in the first place. At least that’s how the old Lance would have been. His Lance.

“Whatever, fine.” Keith huffed and handed the cracked case over to Lance, who at least had the decency to look the slightest bit smug. It took a few moments for Lance to get it into the stereo while keeping an eye on the road, but finally the music came through the speakers.

Keith could feel Lance casting sideways glances at him every few seconds, but he refused to meet them, looking out the window to his right at the passing scenery instead. They sat through two whole songs that way, quiet except for the music.

It wasn’t until the soft guitar of a certain Rolling Stones song came on that Keith showed any sign that he was even listening. It wasn’t like he didn't known the song was on the disc, after all, they had made the mixtape together and it wouldn’t have been complete without it.

It was as if he was at that concert all over again, the smell of sweat and the rain to come within the next few hours. The grass beneath their feet and the vibrations of music in the air as people held their lighters over their heads for the love song. It had been during that performance, during that very song, that Keith had mustered the courage to give Lance his first kiss. Under the heavy clouds surrounded by an entire crowd singing of love, Keith had felt the time was finally right to let his feelings be known even if it meant rejection.

His emotions had always been so prevalent as a teenager. His blinding anger, the dread of growing up, the grief of his mother’s passing, and the seemingly unending well of love he’d held for Lance. But now? His emotions were always taking a backseat to something more important. Paying his rent, remembering to feed himself, keeping the electricity on. Relationships weren’t as important as they once were compared to the daily struggle of simply surviving.

Gradually he became aware of Lance’s voice singing again. Keith felt his throat tighten slightly. Quickly, he leaned forward and shut off the stereo. Lance’s vocals stopped with the music, but before he even had the time to ask, Keith was shaking his head.

“Just a headache. Sorry.” A lame excuse. Keith stuffed his hand into his pocket and pulled out a half full, slightly crumpled, carton of cigarettes. “Do you mind?”

“You know I don’t.” Keith ignored the hurt in Lance’s voice in favor of rolling down his window and lighting the tip of the smoke he pulled from the carton. It was now that he realized that the time he’d been with Lance was likely the happiest he'd ever been. He hadn’t expected it to hurt so much to be reminded that this world took everything good and turned them against him. Even Lance.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

The rest of the day was driven in silence, neither of them speaking to the other until they stopped at a motel for the night. A few impersonal exchanges as they each took their turn in the small bathroom and then crawled into the two separate queen beds. Keith knew he’d torn the rift between them even wider with his stunt with the music. He just wanted this trip to be over so he could go back to pretending like his entire high school career had never happened. So he could go back to pretending that Lance had been nothing more than a beautiful dream in an ugly world.


	3. December 1963 (Oh What A Night)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed the title has changed! That's right, Mixtape 2010 will be known as Sweetheart from now on, but I'm kinda keeping Mixtape 2010 around as an alternate title, so I may refer to the story as either or.
> 
> As always, I am late. But I hope awkward teen Klance makes up for it. This chap contains references to cancer and death. so uh... TW.

**December 2008**

 

Lance couldn’t breathe. His head was swimming from the lack of oxygen and he was beginning to sweat in his blue parka, the fur-lined hood tickled his flushed cheeks and his chilled fingers were bracing themselves against the white brick behind him. Lance couldn’t breathe, but he wasn’t a hundred percent sure he wanted to anymore.

Keith Kogane, his boyfriend of four months, was making damn sure that every little gasp of air Lance could manage was precious, keeping the taller boy pressed firmly against the back wall of the church as their lips connected again and again. The bite of the winter air at the tips of his ears and over his knuckles was little more than a nuisance at this point.

Their meetups behind the church had become a regular occurrence ever since Keith had mentioned his father had started making him come to weekly brainwashing sessions at the local Baptist affiliation as a  _coping method_. Lance was pretty sure that Keith's dad thought he was going to become a drug addict now that his mother had passed. Lucky for the both of them that Keith hadn't seemed to inherit his father's addictive tendencies. They'd spent that first Wednesday night throwing stones into the puddle that passed for a small pond at the back of the church and talking. But as the months had passed, they'd moved well beyond talking. At this point, the second Keith saw Lance round the corner behind the brick building he was pulling him into his arms. But he'd never been one to complain.

Lance took another glorious breath as he tilted his head slightly, a sunny grin spreading over his face at the sight of Keith's swollen lips, a thrill of excitement running down his spine.

"I think this beats a dusty old pew any day, what do you think?" He teased, pushing off of the wall slightly and pressing his palms to the chilled leather shoulders of Keith's oversized jacket. Lance was ninety percent sure it was the only one he owned.

Keith's own smile formed in response to Lance's flirtatious tone. "To be fair, this church doesn't actually have pews."

Lance frowned, his hands sliding to Keith's collar and smoothing his thumbs over the supple material. "How was I supposed to know that?" He huffed, but after a minute decided that he didn't want to ruin this by starting up another one of their debates turned arguments. "Anyways," his voice lilted over the last syllable, a flirty smile pulling the corner of his lips back upward. "Do you remember last week when you were trying to give me that hickey?"

Keith's cheeks flared red at the mention of the incident. He'd  _tried_ , there was no doubt about that. The poor boy must have felt like a damned Hoover after almost a full minute of biting and sucking at his boyfriend's neck. It was like Lance was bruise-resistant, his skin simply refusing to hold any kind of mark longer than the second after Keith had pulled his mouth away. Lance had eventually had to pry him off and give him a sympathetic pat on the head and a  _'good try'_  sort of look. Keith had been determined to forget that it had ever happened.

"...yes," he said eventually. Embarrassment evident in his voice and body language. Lance caught on, his expression softening even as Keith could tell he was trying not to laugh at the memory. "Well," there was a mischievous light in his dark blue eyes. "I think that it's my turn to try." Brown fingers gripped at Keith's jacket a little tighter as he waited for a response, biting at his lower lip tantalizingly.

Keith's eyebrows raised in slight shock, but only for a moment. His hands went to Lance's hips, keeping them close. "If that's what you want."

Lance's delight lit up his face in a way that Keith would have described as innocent were it any other type of situation. In a matter of seconds their roles were swapped and the cold bite of brick was pressed against his back and seeping through the leather. Lance could honestly say he'd never been more attracted to anyone in his life. The sharp contrast of white skin and black hair always did something in the pit of his stomach when he saw him. And those big dark eyes. They were the most expressive eyes Lance had ever seen. Even when the rest of him was unreadable, Keith could never hide his emotions from Lance as long as he could look him in the eyes. Lance's palms slid up under the thick black sweater beneath Keith's jacket, savoring the way the soft flesh of Keith's stomach quivered from the invading cold. Keith was trying to hide his surprise now, Lance knew. He couldn't blame him though since they'd never really messed with the barrier of their clothes before. It was a step that Lance was ready to take.

He pressed forward, landing soft kisses and sucks to his boyfriend's neck. Unlike Lance, Keith seemed to bruise almost immediately, needing only the smallest amount of suction before his skin was a purplish-red and raw. Head tipped back and eyes closed, Lance felt the muscles of Keith's throat thrum beneath his lips as he pulled soft moans from the other boy's chest. He could feel his jeans growing tight. Lance pushed the fabric of Keith's sweater further up, revealing his pale chest to the elements where he almost immediately began to shiver. He gave the small, soft brown nipples a cursory approval, trying not to blush as he watched them harden in the chill. 

"Enjoying the view?" Kieth grumbled sarcastically, adorably embarrassed for all the usual bravado he liked to put on for when they were normally together. But then, Keith was usually the one spearheading their relationship's firsts. Perhaps he felt out of his element. Uncomfortable. 

"Of course I am," Lance smiled, his teasing flirtation coming back with ease. He wanted Keith to be comfortable with him, even like this. Because he loved Keith. His sixteen-year-old brain was sure of it. He loved that Keith tried to be romantic for him. He loved that Keith shared his grief over his mother with him while skipping stones at the pond. He loved that Keith walked him to class, even when Lance had told him it was a tired cliche. He loved that he and Keith just seemed to  _click_. And he loved Keith's body. Especially right now, when they were both pulling each other flush against the other and he could feel the heat between them. Their own little spark.

Yes, Lance loved Keith. And that was why he was slowly sinking to his knees on the cold ground behind the church and carefully reaching for the button of Keith Kogane's jeans, both an action and a quest for permission at once. And when, after only a moment's hesitation, Keith nodded his approval, he knew that the heat between his boyfriend's legs was all he needed to fight back the chill.

 

_____________________

 

 **June**   **2017**

 

Lance woke face down in a sea of motel room pillows, early dawn sunlight pushing its way through the curtains and across to the other bed in the room where a tuft of dark hair was sticking out from under the blanket. It was the only clue that there was another human being in the room with him. With a groan he rolled onto his back, one arm thrown over his eyes to block out the light. He knew that he should get up to preserve the precious few hours of daylight they had, but instead he found himself savoring the few moments of the morning's stillness that he could get before another long day of driving. Another long day of tiptoeing around Keith and gambling on what and what not to say to keep the man from fully hating him as an adult.

He thought on his dream, his eyebrows drawing together in a frown. He hadn't dreamt often of their time at the church, considering that Keith's dad had only forced him to go during that first six months of their relationship. But he could still remember those nights, sitting huddled together outside, preferring to shiver and talk than to go inside where the heater was and asked to recite verses of scripture. It was where Keith had told him about his mother's long battle with cancer. The seemingly inevitable loss of that battle, and the toll it had taken on what was left of his family. His relationship with his father became strained with suspicion, having to lose their house and move into an apartment so they could afford the medical bills, the aching loss that Keith had tried his hardest to hide in public but was finally able to unburden himself with Lance.

His gaze shifted to the clump of dark hair on the stark white pillow opposite the room. He wondered, briefly, how much of that brave and loving teen was still there. Adulthood liked to mess with you like that. Take that pure version of yourself at sixteen and warp it. But it didn't mean that you weren't still you. And if he could just get through to that Keith from seven years ago, he knew that those feelings would still be there. They had to be. He was determined. 

Lance pushed the blankets away from his legs and gathered a change of clothes to take into the shower with him.

 

-

 

An hour and a half later they were out on the road again, stomachs full of the motel's complimentary breakfast of soggy cereal and burned toast. Lance and Keith were both bright eyed after their full night's rest and ready for the first leg of the day's trip. Lance was keeping himself entertained through the radio, as always, the CD of teenage love songs carefully tucked back into the glovebox where it belonged for now. Neither of them mentioned it. Not yet. 

And yet, as it turned out, the disc wasn't entirely necessary. Lance should have guessed that one of their songs would just be playing on the radio by chance. He'd always been a believer in fate. As the bright piano melody tinked it's way across the airwaves and into their little truck on one of those  _Old but Gold_ stations that was currently the only thing not airing them full static, the two of them locked eyes, Lance with a wide grin and Keith with what almost looked like dread.

"Oh come on, Keith! It's a happy song!" Lance tapped out the beat on the steering wheel. "I know you know the words." 

Keith rolled his eyes. "I'm not singing this with you."

Lance just hummed along before joining in with the voice of Bob Gaudio. " _Oh what a night, late December back in '63, what a very special time for me,"_  Lance nudged Keith with his elbow in an attempt to get him to sing along, and while Keith still wasn't singing, he  _was_ starting to smile. 

" _Oh I, I got a funny feeling when he walked in the room,"_ Lance continued, pointedly looking at Keith when he changed the lyric. He knew the other man wouldn't be able to hold out for long. Not to a classic like this one. They always had too much fun singing it together. 

Finally, Keith began to sing and a wide grin broke out onto his face, the first Lance had seen since being reunited with him. Lance knew it. No one could resist The Four Seasons. No one. " _Oh what a night! Hypnotizing, mesmerizing me!"_ As Keith sang, his arms went up above his head in an attempt at dancing in the small space of the car, Keith's body trying to move along with the cheerful brass and piano. Lance was transfixed.

" _He was everything I dreamed he'd be, what a-_ Lance, oh my god, watch the road!" Keith's voice broke as he grabbed for the safety handle at the roof of the cab and braced his left arm against the truck's center console.

Lance's attention snapped forward again as the truck swerved off the asphalt and into the dirt on the side of the road. He quickly maneuvered them back onto the street, but not before hearing a loud crunch from the backseat as Lance's bag toppled over. "Shit!"

"Lance, what the hell?! Are you trying to get us killed?!"

Lance eased the truck to a stop on the side of the road and threw on his hazards before unbuckling his seatbelt so he could turn and grab the bag, the song now nothing but dim background noise.

"What? What was that?" Keith leaned over to try and find out what had caused Lance to freak out so much.

"Shiro's present."

"Present?"

"Shiro and Allura's wedding present." Lance sighed, clearly agitated with himself as he pulled the zipper to check to make sure everything was okay. Keith's eyes widened.

"Shit. You give presents at weddings?"

Lance looked up at him like he'd just asked him if the sky was green. "Yes, you do give presents at weddings." To further his point, he pulled a neatly wrapped parcel from within his bag to wave in Keith's face before he began to run his fingers over it, trying to gauge if it was damaged without unwrapping it.

Keith groaned and let the back of his skull smack against the headrest. "I'm going to be the worst best man in the history of all weddings ever."

Lance sighed in relief to find out that the present was indeed intact. the crunch had just been a bag of snacks he'd forgotten he'd thrown in here the day before. He pulled out the plastic bag, tossing the now crushed goldfish and pretzels at him before replacing the present and luggage. "That's not true.  You can't forget the present if the wedding hasn't happened yet. I'm pretty sure the next town has a mall. Don't worry about it." Lance flashed him a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh, yeah, Keith trying to give Lance a hickey at the beginning of this chapter is based on a story one of my friends told me about how her skin just can't hold a hickey and her boyfriend got really embarrassed because he kept trying. Teenagers are into hickeys right? Yeah.


	4. I Just Needed You to Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The longest chapter yet, and honestly my favorite. The mall used in this chapter is real, however it is in Texas and not Nevada.

**February 2009**

Keith sighed softly into the muffled wool of his scarf as he pushed his way into the coffee shop, the warmth of the building’s heater pulling him in from the cold air outside. There was a decent amount of people milling about or seated in big cushy chairs, warm mugs pressed between their palms as they did homework or spoke between each other in hushed whispers.

The soft strum of guitar strings met his ears as he stepped up to the counter, the small figure behind the register raising one slim blonde eyebrow up at him.

“You’re late Kogane.”

“As if I didn’t already know. It’s good to see you too, Pidge.” Pidge only smirked in response, her large circular lenses doing nothing to hide the amusement in her amber eyes. Pidge was only a sophomore, but she shared more in common with Keith than any of the other students his age. Not to mention a calculus class. She was a real math whiz, and the two of them met up to study outside of school more often than not, as long as Keith wasn’t busy with Lance and Pidge could get a ride from her older brother Matt. She was lucky enough to have gotten a job here at the coffee shop that she could walk to. Keith always told her she was the definition of hipster, and every time he got a glare that could level an entire city.

“I got your order, loverboy. You might want to check on Lance before he has a panic attack though. He’s been tuning that guitar for ten minutes straight.” She tilted her head in the direction of the far corner and the source of the slow strumming. Keith glanced over and caught sight of Lance, sitting on a stool with his guitar over one knee and his head bowed. To any stranger, he might simply look to be going over the pages of music on his stand, but Keith could catch the slight tremor in his fingers. He hadn’t seen Keith come in yet.

“Thanks, Pidge.” He dropped a few bills onto the counter to pay for his coffee before he headed over to where his boyfriend sat plucking at his strings to check for the millionth time if his instrument was in tune. He pressed a palm to Lance’s shoulder softly.

“Hey.”

Lance jumped at the contact, his nerves getting the better of him before he let his shoulders fall again once he’d seen who it was.

“Keith. You’re late.” He didn’t sound upset though. More like relieved to have Keith’s calming presence at his side.

“I know, Pidge told me. I had some issues getting out of the house, you know how dad is.” Keith leaned down to press a small kiss to Lance’s cheek as his caramel skin pulled into a frown.

“You’re not going to get in trouble, are you?”

Keith let his gloved hand slide from Lance’s shoulder and offered a small crooked smile. “The chance to hear the great Lance McClain play a room is worth the wrath of a thousand drunken fathers.”

Lance’s frown deepened, clearly not seeing the humor in Keith’s statement. “I mean it, Keith. If you get in trouble for this you’ll have more than your father to answer to.”

“Oh? Is that a threat?”

Lance glared, making it obvious that he wasn’t open for teasing on the matter. Keith sighed.

“It’s fine, Lance, really.” His boyfriend was always worrying about him, and while he appreciated it, he also sometimes wished that he didn’t risk giving Lance a heart attack from all the stress.

“If you say so.” Lance sounded unsure.

“Good. Now,” Keith fell back onto the nearest couch, an old fashioned green thing with pale pink flowers stitched into it, and pulled his crimson scarf from his neck, “I’ve been looking forward to your public debut all week. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

Lance rolled his eyes at him, a grin spreading over his face. With his nerves calmed, Lance cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the milling students around the small lounge area. He gave a quick introduction and began his first song.  


**June 2017**

“I am not buying Allura lingerie for her wedding, Lance.” Keith rubbed his thumb and forefinger over the skin of his forehead, trying to ease a growing headache. They were running out of ideas, and not to mention time. It was their third hour in the mall somewhere in the Nevada suburbs and Lance was being absolutely useless. “Just like I’m not getting them a puppy, and I’m not getting them a book on how to spice up their sex life.”

“Those are all great gift ideas, Keith. Why do you insist on undermining my genius?” The image of Lance pouting in front of the entrance to a Victoria’s Secret surrounded by headless mannequins all dressed in various lacy delicates was one Keith had never thought he’d see. Okay, well maybe that wasn’t entirely true. Keith had learned that you really can’t rule out any possibilities when it came to Lance.

“When you give me a gift idea that doesn’t reference Shiro and Allura in the bedroom and doesn’t involve a living thing, maybe I’ll stop considering you to be a complete idiot.” Keith rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone to pull up Shiro’s Facebook. Surely he’d posted about a registry at some point. Being told exactly what to get the bride and groom would be tremendously helpful right about now.

Lance wandered up next to him, leaning an arm on his shoulder to gaze at the screen. Keith had to make an effort not to tense up, remembering that Lance was just a touchy-feely sort of person.

Nothing. Of course, Shiro’s Facebook was nothing but dog videos and the occasional picture of him and Allura posing in front of New York landmarks. He felt the beginning pangs of jealousy and dread in his stomach and had to shut off his phone again. Deep breaths.

“So where to next?”

“We could try the pet shop again! I didn’t get to pet any of the kittens. It’s not that I don’t like cats, but you saw how needy all those puppies were, I had to pet them all. And then you dragged me away before I could--”

“Lance, _no._ ”

The taller man actually whined, as if he were a two-year-old about to throw a fit.

“We already wasted enough time at the pet store, we’re on a time limit here.”

Lance pushed off of Keith’s shoulder, planted his hands on his hips and began to look around at the various shops that might give him an idea. He stopped after only a few seconds, peering across the way at a gourmet candy shop.

“What about that?” he pointed. “I’m sure they have gift baskets or something.”

Keith followed the line of Lance’s finger and frowned. “I’m pretty sure Allura is some sort of health nut. Do you think she’d really want a bunch of candy for her wedding present?”

“Everyone wants something sweet now and then.” Lance’s grin was in full swing again. “Even Allura, and even sour grapes like you.”

“I’m not a sour grape.” Keith huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and beginning to walk towards the little shop.

“Really? Because you’re making your sour face.” Lance followed, his voice trailing off as he feigned indifference. Keith stopped, his expression morphing into confusion and shock.

“What face?”

Lance’s smirk made it obvious that this was exactly the question he’d wanted him to ask. “You know,” he circled in front of Keith and pressed a finger to the tip of his rounded nose. “Your sour face. When you’re being stubborn about something and you get all scrunched up.”

Keith blinked away any trace of surprise before swatting Lance’s hand and insisting to himself that he had not been blushing.

“Like _I’m_ the stubborn one,” he grumbled to himself before continuing forward.

\--------------------

Thirty minutes later and Keith was laden down with a bag of various exotic chocolates that he now had the responsibility of keeping in a state of un-melted goodness until the wedding day. He’d never considered himself much of a gift-basket kind of man, but with Lance’s guidance and not enough cash for much else, he’d just have to hope he’d made a good choice. He knew close to nothing about Shiro’s bride, but hopefully his old high school friend could enjoy it at least. Now all that was left to be done was to get back in the truck and resume their trip. If only he could keep Lance’s focus for more than a few seconds. He glanced over to see what it was that was currently stealing the man’s attention.

Lance stood staring at a large carousel tucked towards the back of the food court, its painted horses chipping and its gilded rails marred by the oils from the hands of little children. Yet Lance was looking at it as if it were the most magical thing on the planet.

 _Fuck_.

“Lance, please don’t tell me you’re thinking about--”

“Keith, come with me!” Lance grabbed at Keith’s wrist and tugged him forwards, weaving them between plastic tables and chairs with an excited glee Keith hadn’t known was capable of beings outside of children under the age of five and the various puppies that had quite literally dog-piled them earlier in the pet store.

“Lance, we’re on a schedule.” Keith hissed to his companion once they’d come to a stop in front of the ride. “Shiro will kill both of us if we miss his wedding.”

“Can you believe they have one of these things inside of a mall?” Lance was ignoring him, already digging through his wallet for change.

“Lance!”

“We’re not going to miss anything, I promise!”

“Like your promises mean anything to me!”

“It’s a ten-minute ride, Keith, you’re not going to die because you had a little fun for once.”

Keith felt a small stab of hurt slash through his chest at the comment.

“Well,” he hesitated, “I can’t get on, there’d be nowhere to put this stupid chocolate out here without it being stolen.” His argument was flimsy, and he knew it, already sensing that this argument was Lance’s to win.

“Keith.” Lance turned and placed a hand on his upper arm, grounding him. “Will you please just ride the stupid carousel with me?”

Keith’s dark eyes stared at a small stain on Lance’s shirt, not willing to meet the sudden intensity of Lance’s expression. He searched his head for any other excuse, but he found he wasn’t even sure why he was arguing about this in the first place. That seemed to happen a lot around Lance.

“Fine.”

The grin was back, Lance’s easy playfulness returning like a second skin as he handed the money over to the ride’s operator, who’d thankfully seemed disinterested in the two adult men arguing over whether or not to ride a carnival ride in the middle of the mall.

Again Lance was taking his wrist and guiding him towards the carousel, this time with less urgency and a gentleness that Keith had nearly forgotten Lance possessed. He made a point of taking the gift basket from Keith’s hands and setting it beside the two horses he’d chosen.

Keith reluctantly mounted a black stallion, frozen mid-charge with its mouth open in a war cry and dust lining its teeth. Leaning back, he could already feel his spine complaining. Lance clambered onto the one beside him, brown and lean with a serious look to it and an ear snapped off at the base. As the tinkling of a carnival tune sprang from the speakers overhead, the whole thing began to turn.

Lance was grinning ear to ear, gazing out at the mall-goers from atop his steed. Slowly, Keith began to relax. Maybe Lance had been right. He did just need to calm down sometimes. He was stressing himself out like this. They’d planned the trip with almost two days of spare time in case of emergencies. They would be fine.

Lance turned in his horse, facing Keith again. “See? It’s fun, what’d I tell you?”

He couldn’t help noticing how the tan of Lance’s hand on the plastic horses neck almost blended with the paint. How even after years apart from him, Keith could still see the glimmer of determination in Lance’s eyes. Perhaps it was cheesy to be comparing him to a carnival horse, but that didn’t stop Keith’s mind from making the connection. Despite the way life had beaten Lance down, beaten them both down, he was still capable of bringing a bit of joy into Keith’s world.

“I missed you.” The words tumbled from his lips before Keith could even recognize it was him who’d spoken. The atmosphere grew suddenly heavy, too many implications held in the innocent words. He almost regretted it. Almost. If it hadn’t been for the shift in Lance’s expression. The way his face filtered through shock, a happy sort of disbelief, and then finally his grin softened to a shy smile as his cheeks flooded with the light pink of spring flowers. Keith could feel his heart swell in his chest at the rare yet familiar sight of a bashful Lance McClain, and as the two of them sat on the small ride in the middle of a crowded shopping mall, only Lance’s voice seemed to carry.

“I missed you too.”


	5. Cold Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As many of you know, this fic had been on an unintentional months-long hiatus. I am a Houstonian, and I experienced a lot of hardship due to the hurricane last September. There was a lot of damage to my house, and I lost my job within weeks of the disaster. Life has finally started to settle back into something somewhat normal which means a return to my Klance obsession. Thank you to everyone who waited with me for this update, it means so much that you guys stick around to support me.
> 
> So enough about me, please enjoy our darling boys in the next chapter of Sweetheart!

**March 2009**

 

The wind flowing through the knee-high grass brought with it the sweet smell of spring flowers and possibilities as it whirled Keith's long hair into his face and pushed against his back, urging him further into the field. The gentle tug of Lance's fingers in his felt like the only thing keeping his feet grounded to the earth.

Glancing over his shoulder he met Lance's eyes. His dusky skin looked even darker under the lavender sky, but his smile was wide and bright. The two of them had left the school after spending only an hour at their junior prom, preferring instead to drive thirty minutes out to Lance's house and wander the field behind the farmstead. Keith had told his dad he wouldn't be home for the night and the man had only grunted in response, more caught up in curling up among various empty bottles than answering his son. Lance's parents were tucked away in their beds back at the house, which left the two of them alone to enjoy each other's company. They wandered the field for almost an hour, talking and laughing, swinging their joined hands between them before Lance finally claimed his legs couldn't take any more walking and he fell back into the grass, tugging Keith down with him where they fell into yet another fit of laughter when Keith landed in his lap.

Sliding against the grass, the two of them settled comfortably in each other's arms and wordlessly looked up at the night sky. Keith couldn't help letting his eyes slip closed; the warmth of Lance at his side and the soft tickle of grass against his cheeks were enough to lull him into what had to be the happiest state he'd been in in months. When he felt the brush of Lance's lips against his temple his heart swelled even before his boyfriend could whisper how much he loved him. He took comfort in Lance, his love, his anchor in this crazy thing they called life.

 

—————————————————————-

 

**June 2017**

 

Lance was singing one of their songs again, but for once Keith didn't seem to mind. The cracked casing of their mixtape lay empty in his lap while lyrics from their teenage years spilled from the speakers. Lance was tapping out the beat on the steering wheel; Keith was tapping it on his knee.

The past two days had flown by with these songs in the background, the dusty roads they'd been driving slowly grew spotted with shrubbery that eventually morphed into trees as they passed into the Midwest. It was getting late. The sun was starting to set behind them and cast long shadows over the road until they disappeared into the distance.

Keith was starting to look up. He'd managed to get Shiro a wedding present, even if it was a subpar one, and he and Lance had already made it through half of their trip without murdering each other or even being overly awkward. In fact, if he was being honest the whole thing had been rather pleasant. He enjoyed Lance's company, despite everything.

He tilted his head against the window, his eyes catching on Lance swaying to the song, and smiled. "Do you still perform?"

Lance paused in his lyrics, casting a glance over at his passenger. "Every now and then, yeah. I tried starting a band after we graduated, you know."

Keith hadn't meant to laugh. Really. "I'm guessing that didn't work out?"

Lance's face twisted into a pout. "Not really, no. I wasn't exactly close to any of the members and we had… creative differences."

"Uh-huh."

"But I still play on my own occasionally. Just little stuff, coffee shops and the like. Why?"

"No reason." Keith pushed himself up from the window again. "I was just thinking about how it would be a waste if you stopped."

That made Lance grin. "So you _do_ like my singing."

Keith felt his lips turn upwards. "I always have, asshole. Don't go fishing for compliments."

"Good," Lance smirked, ignoring the accusation. "Because we have another three to four days of driving and I know a _lot_ of songs."

Keith shoved at his shoulder playfully, rolling his eyes. "Spare me."

"Oh no, you can't take back compliments, and if you still like my singing then I will serenade you all the way to New York City."

Keith let out a light-hearted groan and pulled his ankles up on onto the seat, his knees butterflying out on either side.

"What about you, though?" Lance asked, switching gears between teasing and curiosity easily.

"What about me?"

"You were into music too."

"I don't sing."

Lance frowned, casting Keith a mildly disapproving look. "You know what I mean. You could play."

Keith paused. "I can't exactly afford a recreational piano, and even if I could, my apartment is small enough already without some monstrous instrument taking up half of it."

Lance shrugged. "You could always get one of those electric ones."

"It just isn't important enough to me. I don't have the money, or even the time."

"Alright."

They let the conversation fall off. Yet another argument Lance wasn't willing to fight, which somehow almost annoyed Keith even more than if Lance had pressed the issue further. He turned his attention to the window, watching as dark figures of trees blurred past. It was another ten minutes before he spoke again.

"Are we going to stop soon? I'm getting tired."

"You're not the one driving, just take a nap."

Keith made a face, scrunching his nose. "I'd rather sleep in an actual bed."

Lance sighed and pulled his phone from where it rested in a cupholder between them and pulled up the map.

"I don't think there's going to be a hotel for another two hours."

Keith frowned up at the darkened sky and then back at Lance. "Two hours?"

"That's what it says." Lance turned his phone so Keith could see the screen and confirm for himself.

"Think you can make it?" Keith asked as he pushed the phone away from his nose.

"What kind of question is that?"

"I'm just asking. You've been driving all day, I figured you might be tired too."

"I'm fine. Don't worry your little head, I'll get us to the hotel no problem so you can get your beauty sleep, princess."

"I'm sorry, _I'm_ the princess?" Keith pressed a hand to his chest and gave a short burst of a laugh. "Okay, Mr. _I'm-Going-to-Skip-School-for-a-Spa-Day_."

Lance couldn't hold back his laugh at the memory. "Hey, that was a good day."

"Just get us to the hotel, idiot.”

 

—————————————————

 

As it turned out, Lance was not fine. Over the next hour his stamina slowly caved and it wasn't long before Keith was having to stop him from nodding off at the wheel.

"Hey man, I can drive if you need me to," he offered, but Lance just shook his head.

"I thought the whole point of us going together was because you didn't have your license." The brunette's voice was graveled and groggy from lack of use over the past hour.

"I don't think a cop is gonna pull us over in the middle of the night all the way out here." Keith pointed out. They really were in the middle of nowhere.

"Keith, I said no."

"Well if you keep driving you're going to get us both killed, so do you have a better solution?" He sat back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest.

There was a moment of silence while Lance thought and Keith almost thought he was going to nod off again.

"We could sleep in the truckbed."

Keith raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, what?"

"The bed of the truck. I packed some spare blankets, we could spread them out."

"You want to sleep in the back of the truck on the side of the highway?" Keith asked, incredulous.

"Would you prefer I keep driving?"

He pursed his lips. Lance had a point.

"Fine."

It only took a few minutes for Lance to find what he deemed a suitable spot to pull of the interstate and into a grassy area between the trees and the road before shutting off the engine and getting out of the cabin. The two of them spread out the blankets in the bed of the truck and slowly began the challenge of trying to get comfortable. Neither of them seemed all that ready to change into pajamas on the side of the road, so they stayed in their bulky jeans and bunched up their jackets to use as pillows before attempting to arrange their long limbs into some semblance of comfort. Lance kicked Keith in the back, and at one point Keith's elbow lodged itself into Lance's ribs, but they eventually settled with Lance on his back and Keith laying on his side angled away from the other man.

"Thank you Shiro for deciding to get married in the summer," Lance muttered and Keith made a soft noise of agreement. He didn't want to think of how awful this situation would be if they were making this trip in the colder months of the year. Not that it was too hard to keep warm. Lance really did have a lot of blankets, and the truckbed was pretty cramped, which meant there was plenty of body heat to keep them warm.

"It's still weird to think about." Lance's voice came again, and Keith had to struggle with his self-control to keep from kicking him in an effort to keep him quiet. Instead, he begrudgingly decided to humor him.

"What is?" He turned his head to look over his shoulder at Lance.

"Just that Shiro is getting hitched, you know? To someone we've never even met."

"It's not like we've been in touch with him since high school, did you expect him to get your approval on his fiance first?"

Lance let the question go unanswered and Keith took that as permission to lay his head back down on his bunched up jacket. He let his eyes slip closed, listening to the sound of summer crickets in the grass around him. He felt his mind wander further and further from wakefulness, but just when he was about to tip over the edge into sleep, Lance spoke again.

"Do you think we would have gotten married?"

Keith's eyes flew open, his shoulders tensing at the proposition. He debated for half a second if he should just pretend he'd been asleep, but he could feel Lance's anticipation for an answer demanding attention behind his back.

"Lance, we broke up." He let the words fall with a sigh.

"But what if we hadn't?" Lance turned onto his side and Keith could feel his eyes on his back. "I mean it. What if we hadn't broken up? Do you think we would have gotten married?"

Keith felt his chest ache a little. "Lance—"

"Just humor me."

Keith knew he had no choice but to give up on sleeping at this point. He turned over onto his back and glanced at those pleading blue eyes and felt his resolve crumble.

"...I dunno. Maybe?"

"Maybe?" The hope in Lance's voice was enough to crush him.

"I guess anything could have happened. But marriage isn't happily ever after, you know. That's why divorce is a thing."

"Yeah, you're right."

Keith let the crickets take over again, staring up at the stars. He supposed he couldn't blame Lance for wondering. Even he had wondered what they could've been. Granted, it was usually while he was barely lucid after a night of drinking.

"I would have done it you know."

The confession was so soft Keith almost hadn't heard it. He felt a wave of heat rush up to his face and he nearly forgot to breathe. Lance was waiting for an answer, but at this point, Keith wasn't sure if anything he said could even make it through the thick air between them. He swallowed anxiously.

"Done what?"

"Married you," Lance spoke again, louder this time. "If you'd asked."

Keith wasn't sure what to say. He felt like his vocal cords didn't belong to him anymore and his tongue was useless in his mouth. Lance had wanted to marry him? _Him_?

"I was waiting for it, actually." Lance let out a half-hearted laugh. "We all were. Me, Pidge, Hunk, Shiro, we all thought…" Lance's voice quivered almost imperceptibly before trailing off. "Sorry. I probably shouldn't be saying these things, huh?"

Keith laughed, unable to think of any other reaction. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, and he was still trying to come to grips with all this. "You never really cared about what you should and shouldn't say before." Keith felt his stomach squirm, a mixture of loss for what they'd had and guilt for what he'd done to it rolling around in his insides. "I didn't know that's what you wanted."

"It's all I wanted." Keith could hear the strain in Lance's voice, and his heart melted. The old desire to hold the man beside him lifted its head from somewhere deep inside him. He reached a hand out under the blankets, finding Lance's arm and using it as a guide down to his wrist and then to his hand, where their fingers tangled together. Lance didn't look at him, but he didn't pull away either, keeping his eyes firmly on the sky.

"I'm sorry," Lance muttered. "I shouldn't have brought it up. I can't blame you, it's not like you can help it if you stop loving someone."

Lance might as well have thrown a brick into Keith's chest for the way it winded him. "Lance, I never," He squeezed Lance's hand between them, wanting to comfort him in any way possible. "I never just stopped loving you."

That caught his attention. Lance turned to face him, looking for all the world like he didn't even dare to breathe in case it broke this moment from them. "You didn't?"

Keith had known before that Lance had a force almost like gravity. He'd felt it firsthand when they'd first met, he'd seen the way people just naturally revolved around his personality, and he was feeling it now as Lance leaned into him. The press of Lance's forehead against his own was something he hadn't even realized he'd missed. He had a brief thought, the possibility of pressing a hand to Lance's chest and pushing him back, of stopping whatever this was from happening, but the thought was quickly erased with the silken touch of Lance's lips on his.

Keith had shared many kisses with Lance in his life, but none had ever felt as fragile as this one. None had ever had so much hesitancy, so much caution. There was so much hurt between them, and this was an open doorway into forgiveness for the both of them.

And then Lance was pulling back, and the world seemed to move again. There were the beginnings of tears gathering in Lance's lashes, and he squeezed his eyes shut in a vain attempt to keep them back.

"I loved you," Lance breathed, and there was nothing he could do to hide the choked sob caught in the back of his throat. “I loved you so much.”

Keith's heart sank as Lance held onto fistfuls of his shirt and hid his tears in Keith's chest. He wrapped his arms around him and ran his fingers through soft brown hair as Lance let the grief of a decade of loneliness escape his lips.

"I know," Keith murmured into his ear. "I know you did Lance."

Keith ran his hands comfortingly over Lance's back and through his hair until he'd cried himself out and passed into sleep. He pressed the cuff of his sleeve to his past love's cheeks, blotting away the tears as best he could. He knew this was his fault. All of Lance's suffering over the years was because of him, and there was nothing he could do to take it back. He just didn't know what to do anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I post progress updates and other cute things related to my fics on Tumblr:  ChoroChild 

**Author's Note:**

> I post progress updates and other cute things related to my fics on Tumblr:  ChoroChild 


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